


Interruptions

by orphan_account



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cullrian Mini-Bang 2015, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, cullen can't catch a break
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-22 15:28:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4840676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen wants nothing more than a moment alone with Dorian, but fate seems to have other plans</p><p>For the Minibang. Prompt: Caught in the act<br/>You can find the wonderful accompanying art <a href="http://galaxiesto.tumblr.com/post/128889540391/loud-sounds-of-anguish#notelist">here</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Interruptions

Getting a moment alone shouldn't be so hard, Cullen thinks to himself as he half listens to a scout. He gives Dorian an apologetic smile. They had grown close, closer than Cullen had ever imagined. When they had first met he did not think highly of the man, found him to be presumptuous, arrogant, and self centered. After reading some of the field reports, and watching the way he interacted with the inner circle he quickly realized how wrong he was. Under all of that bravado was a man who cared deeply about a great many things. He was passionate and clever, funny and deep. Being near him, seeing how in control he was, and how confident he was with his magic helped Cullen grow. When he is with Dorian he forgets his fear of magic, and of mages. After time passed, and he took the time to get to truly know the man, he realized that he wanted more than just friendship.

He's not sure he could pick an exact moment it happened. If he had to, it would be the time Dorian was late to their weekly chess match, so he went to the library to find the man. He was asleep in his chair, books scattered around him, on the floor, the table, one laying open in his lap. The sun was shining directly on his face, brow furrowed slightly, as if even in his sleep he never stopped thinking. He brushed back an errant strand of the mages hair and thought 'Maker, but I love him'. It could be this moment, but he knows that he had fallen long before that. He was slow to accept it, but he loved him. He really, truly did. He had to tell him.

It was difficult finding a moment alone, with Cullen being endlessly busy with drills and reports and war meetings, and the Inquisitor almost constantly demanding Dorian's attention and assistance on missions. Even when they did have time to themselves it was never truly private. In Cullen's office anyone could walk in, the alcove in the library didn't give much privacy from the other researchers, and the garden was always full of herbalists and lay sisters. Hopefully that would change this week. The Inquisitor decided to take Solas as their mage to Du Lion, and there were no immediate matters needing Cullen's attention. As soon as Cullen can get rid of his messenger he would confess his feelings. He smiles over at Dorian, at this point almost outright ignoring the messenger, distracted by how Dorian looks in the candlelight, glittering and bronze. The mage silently chuckles as the messenger clears their throat nervously to regain his attention. Cullen blushed slightly as he wrenched his eyes away.

As Cullen was finishing up with the messenger the Inquisitor let themself into the room, walking over to Dorian and talking quietly to him for a moment before making back towards the door. Dorian gave him an apologetic smile with a small shrug before following the Inquisitor out. When the door clicked shut behind the mage Cullen let a frustrated sound escape him. Maker's balls. The Inquisitor had planned to take Solas to the Emprise Du Lion, but if they had changed their mind and took Dorian instead than the he would be away for a fortnight. He knows he's being short with the messenger, but all he wants is a moment alone, preferably with Dorian, but that opportunity has passed for the night. When he is finally alone he sinks down into his chair and groans into his hands.

Three weeks. It's been three weeks since Dorian left for Du Lion with the Inquisitor. They should have been back a week ago, and they have not heard from the party in five days. Every day that passes his stress seems to double. His withdrawal doesn't help. Without the pleasant distraction of Dorian's company his headaches seem to plague him in all moments, making him irritable. Cassandra has already taken over drills three days in a row due to his snappish nature with the greener recruits. He hates it, he should be a person his men look up to, not fear. His sleep has been restless and filled with night terrors. Not only his usual flashbacks to the horrors of Kinloch Hold, or the injustices he ignored in Kirkwall, but also twisted fears of all the horrible things that could have happened to Dorian in Du Lion. He tries not to think of what could happen if he was captured by the red Templars there. When he hears the signal of the Inquisitor's return he nearly sprints out of his office.

Even though he came from such a distance he is one of the first to show up at the gates to wait for the Inquisitor's return. The signal was a single drawn out note, and Cullen takes comfort in that. The signal for an injured party member is one short burst followed by a longer one, but he can't make himself relax until he see's Dorian, and knows that he is alright. It isn't long until Leliana is by his side, shortly followed by Josephine, many other inhabitants of Skyhold and members of the inner circle also find their ways to the gate. When the Inquisitor does finally come through the gate they are being carried on an ecstatic Bull's shoulder, both cheering triumphantly. Stable hands and servants rush forth to take the mounts and supplies and Bull immediately starts recounting the tale of their run in with a dragon. Varric and Dorian are the last to enter Skyhold, bringing up the rear behind the caravan of those rescued at Du Lion, Agents they have acquired, and refugees they picked up on the way back. Both looked worn from battle and travel but otherwise well.

Cullen felt almost all of the tension in his body relax when he finally saw Dorian. He wanted nothing more than to go to him and take him into his arms, but that wouldn't be very appropriate and he wasn't sure it would be appreciated so instead he joined the other advisers in addressing the Inquisitor. They made their way to the war room for the official briefing, and after a while they dismissed, deeming the mission a success on all accounts, and the Inquisitor made his way to the tavern where most of Skyhold was celebrating yet another defeated dragon. Cullen stays behind for a moment to finalize some business while the others all take their leave, and nearly an hour passes before he starts his way back to his office.

He pauses in the main hall, and after a moment of consideration decides to join the festivities at the tavern. It's not something he would normally do, the crowded, loud nature of the place makes him uneasy, but the prospect of seeing Dorian pulls him towards it. When he walks through the door the patrons of the tavern cheer at his presence, and before he even has time to understand what's happening he’s is whisked over to the Inquisitor and their party with a tankard pressed into his hand. Bull is recounting the dragon fight again, he wraps an arm around Dorian and hoots loudly.

"And this Vint' bastard! You shoulda seen him, coulda probably took out the damned Hivernal single handed," he gave the mage a slap on the shoulder, almost knocking him off balance. He then leaned over to the Inquisitor and whispered not so quietly "It was pretty hot," earning a snorting laughter from them. Cullen watched from afar as Dorian basked in the adulation he received for a few moments, and contemplated leaving. Obviously it was a bad idea to think he could catch the mage for a moment when half of Skyhold was vying for the attention of their resident dragon hunters. He was lost in thought for a few moments, and didn't notice the mage slide up beside him.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Dorian says. He looks tired, but content, and more than a bit inebriated. Cullen hums in response, eyes drifting down to Dorian’s mouth, lips slightly parted as he runs his tongue over his top lip, and he has to look away before he says or does something stupid. 

“Tire of your fans already?” he asks instead of leaning in to kiss those sinful lips and kissing the man like he so desperately wants to. 

“Ah well, as much as I adore all the reverence and fawning Varric has seemed to have commandeered our audience with a riveting tall tale of who knows what,” he gestures grandly as he talks, but still manages not to spill any of his wine as he sweeps his arm towards the group at the bar. When he leans back against the wall next to Cullen they are so close their shoulders are touching. 

“I’m glad you’re back,” he says a bit abruptly, hoping Dorian doesn’t notice his blush in the low light of the tavern. 

“As am I. The Inquisitor never takes me anywhere pleasant. It’s always bogs, stormy coasts and icy mountains. ‘Ah yes, Dorian you’ll love it in the Emprise. Everything is wet and frozen and covered in red lyrium! Also I’m going to get distracted by a giant ice breathing dragon and make you fight it for me. It’ll be a swell time!’” he lets out a small chuckle. “I think our dearest Inquisitor has picked up Bull’s unorthodox over enthusiasm for dragons. You should see it really, no one should ever be that excited to be attacked. Especially not by an oversized lizard. Luckily Varric and I could convince them it would be a bad idea to fight all three of the dragons in one go, though I suspect I’ll be dragged back to that frozen hellhole soon enough”

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” Cullen says, receiving an incredulous glare from the mage. He chuckles before he continues. “Alright it sounds pretty awful, but at least you rescued all of those people. You’re a hero, you should enjoy the praise.”

“Oh I enjoy the praise very much, while it lasts,” Dorian says, but he pauses, something sad flashing in his eyes for a moment. “But they’ll forget about it soon enough, as they always do. No one wants to celebrate the ‘evil mage from tevinter’ when the Herald of Andraste is the real hero of the day. Not that it matters, mind you, I’m not here for the praise.” Dorian drinks deeply from his glass for a moment. Cullen wants to say something. Some sort of apology that Dorian doesn’t get the recognition he deserves. Or about how no one actually believes he is evil, though he knows that would be a lie, that there were still many in Skyhold who were weary of him, feared him even. Before he has a chance to decide what to say Sera is bouncing over to them. 

“So, big hero, you! Killing dragon’s. Wish I was there, not to help, just to watch,” She lets out a giggle at her unintended innuendo and jabs an elbow into Cullen’s side. “Bull’s doin’ another toast, betcha you could get free drinks for the whole bar if you flirt with him,” She loops an arm through Dorian’s and drags the mage off. He raises his glass to Cullen with a smile as the crowd cheers again. Cullen smiles back and finishes off his tankard, leaving as he feels his head begin to ache. 

The next morning he woke covered in sweat, but this time not from nightmares. He shuddered as he still felt the tug of the fade, the memory of his dream ghosting over his skin. He let out a sigh that morphed into a groan as he shifted his weight applying pressure to his erection. He grinds against his mattress in a half woken stuper, the images of his dream still playing in his head. Images of Dorian. Dorian, with his sinful mouth, and strong arms, glistening with sweat in low candle light. Dorian’s tongue, tangled with his own, or following teeth as they trail down his body. Dorian touching him and fucking him and loving him. 

He groans as the last dregs of sleep leave him, rolling onto his back. Before he even has time to think of what he’s doing he takes himself in hand. He finds release with Dorian’s name on his tongue, and for a moment just lays there in silence as the morning sun begins to crest over the horizon. He curses under his breath as he realizes what he’s just done. He’s supposed to meet Dorian in the garden after lunch today for chess, and he isn’t quite sure he can look the man in the eye right now. 

The morning passes agonizingly slowly as he dreads facing Dorian. He’s certain that the man will know what he did the moment he lays eyes on him. He walks slowly on his way to the garden when noon passes. Dorian is already there when he arrives. He’s talking to Morrigan, looking far more rested than yesterday. Cullen can feel himself staring. Dorian looks amazing in the afternoon light, perfectly groomed and dressed, wearing confidence as easily as the rings that adorned his fingers. Maker he was perfect. 

The mage throws his head back as he laughs at something Morrigan says, the sound is velvet as it drifts to him, causing him to shudder. He feels all of his blood rush to his face when Dorian finally looks his way with a playful smirk pulling his features. Well, more so half of his blood, the other half runs south. Dorian watches him from across the garden, face shaping with concern when Cullen fails to respond in any way other than gaping at him, face flushed, cautiously stepping towards him. 

Before he could even process what he was doing his feet were carrying him away from the garden, all but fleeing Dorian and the embarrassment of having to face him right now. He moved as fast as he could across the battlements without drawing too much attention to himself, and couldn't help but think about the time in Kinloch when he sprinted as quickly as he could from a mage who had flirted with him. Maker he hoped this wouldn't become a recurring habit. He leans heavily against his door when he finally makes it to his office. He can’t believe he just ran from Dorian. What must he be thinking? Cullen groans into his hands as he tries to decide what to do next.

Days pass before Cullen can even think about seeking the mage out. At first he was avoiding him, afraid that he may be angry, or that he might embarrass himself again, but he wants to see him. He wants to apologize, and frankly, he misses him, but he’s been incredibly busy, barely getting a moment out of his office. It doesn’t help that the withdrawal has been persistent these past few days. He’s rubbing his temples in earnest when Dorian finally comes to him

“Somehow,” the mage says as he throws the door open, propping himself gracefully in its frame. “I get the feeling that you’ve been avoiding me,” he gazes at his nails with a practiced sense of indifference before raising his eyes to the commander. Cullen went to stand quickly, but the world spun around him for a moment and he flopped back down into his chair.

“I haven’t-” he starts, but stops, it would be a lie. “I’m not,” he goes with instead, because he isn’t, not anymore that is. The look Dorian gives him is skeptical, but it shifts into something more concerned. He steps into the room, apprehensive. His walls are up, and Cullen curses himself. It took so long to tear down that false aloofness and pretended superiority to see the real Dorian, and he went and ruined it. 

“Are you quite alright Commander?” His voice is low, and he doesn’t quite bother to hide all of his concern, just letting enough seep into his tone to convey some sincerity. 

“I’m fine.” Cullen replied just a bit too fast, just a bit too forcefully, and Dorian cocked a brow at him as he stood, he was sturdier in his movement this time. “And I want to apologize, for the garden,” he would probably be blushing right now if he didn’t feel so clammy. “I…” he trailed off, failing it think of a good excuse, rubbing nervously at the back of his neck. 

“Yes, though many are quick to avoid the presence of Skyhold’s resident ‘evil Magister’ I can’t say I’m used to my ‘friends’ fleeing me,” the way he emphasizes the word friends is so accusing it’s almost enough to make Cullen flinch. Though he’s obviously unhappy with him, Dorian still strides over to Cullen, raising a hand to his forehead, which does make the man flinch slightly. “Vishante Kaffas, you’re on fire,” he breathes out. “May I?” he asks, pulling his hand away for a moment, holding it in front of Cullen and he can sense the magic radiating from it. He hesitates a beat before nodding his compliance. 

Cullen has to fight back a moan when Dorian’s hand returns to his this brow, this time channeling frost magic with a hint of healing. He lets the mage guide him back into his chair and sighs. He leans his head against Dorian’s hip, feeling his breath even out. He didn’t even realized how stilted it was before. He hums his appreciation when Dorian’s other hand starts to gently card through his hair, channeling the same magic. If he had more sense at the moment he would be embarrassed by the intimacy of it, but as things were he was just happy for the reprieve from his sickness. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, turning his head to bury his face against Dorian’s side, raising a hand to clutch at his shirt. He shivers slightly and chooses to blame it on withdrawal instead of this closeness with Dorian. 

“Sorry,” Dorian mimics. “Sorry he says,” there’s a light chuckle that Cullen feel’s before he hears. It sounds rueful to his ears and he almost pulls away for it, but Dorian continues. “I should be the one apologizing, my dear Commander. You’ve been unwell, but I was to self centered to see it. In I come waltzing, demanding your attention like a petulant child, while you’ve been suffering. ‘You’ve been avoiding me’ I say, as if I have any right to demand your time,” he pauses for a moment and Cullen is about to confess to avoiding him but before he gets the chance Dorian starts again, voice low, soft in a way that throws Cullen as off kilter as his words. “How long has it been since you stopped taking it?”

Cullen feels himself tense. He shouldn’t be surprised Dorian figured it out, the mage was smart, and they spent much of their time together. He had hoped that most people couldn’t tell, couldn’t see him struggling with his addiction. He hated that he felt so weak, especially now as Dorian waits for an answer. He pulls away slowly and gazes up at Dorian, grimacing. He places a hand over Dorian’s, where it still rests against his cheek and he leans slightly into it. 

“Since Haven,” He confesses. “No, before Haven. It’s awful Dorian, I’m not sure how much more I can take. I can’t sleep, my head never stops aching, I can barely keep a meal down and my veins feel like they are filled with broken glass,” he takes a shuddering breath as Dorian brushes his thumb across the soft skin under his eye, wiping away a tear he hadn’t realized he shed. Dorian opens his mouth to speak but Cullen stops him by continuing.

“I was avoiding you,” he blurts out, and this time Dorian tenses. “Not for anything you had done. I-I, I just. Maker I’m making a mess of it all,” he stands abruptly and Dorian steps back from him, but he reaches to take the mage’s hand.

“Cullen, what are you-”

“Message for you ser,” Jim announces as he enters Cullen’s office and Dorian jerks away from him. 

“Maker’s ass! What?!” Cullen shouts at the scout. Jim gives him a startled and more than a little terrified look, eyes flicking over to Dorian briefly. He stutters out an excuse, and presents Cullen with a missive from Leliana. Cullen grits his teeth as Jim explains a problem that has occurred with the construction of the new mage tower and he hears the soft click of a door closing. He doesn’t need to look behind him to know that Dorian has left. Jim fidgets awkwardly as he finishes his message, then beats a hasty retreat. Cullen angrily tosses the missive at his desk, then glares at is as it, instead of landing where he intended, gently floats down to the floor. 

Later that night, when his work is done, Cullen rushes to the library. It’s late, and most of Skyhold has retired for the night, but he’s certain Dorian is still awake, he often works late into the night. He stammers out a quick greeting to Solas as he rushes past him, and takes the steps to the second floor two at a time. Dorian is too engrossed in his work to take notice of Cullen’s approach, and the Commander takes this moment to gather his thoughts. He glances around the room to take note of how many people are left in it. It’s nearly empty this time of night, only Fiona and the tranquil, Helisma, were still present, though Solas was still active in the level below, as were Leliana and her scouts above. Cullen clears his throat to announce himself and Dorian nearly drops his quill as he starts. 

“Ah, Commander, what do I owe the honor of such a late night visit? The rumors will be scandalous” He says with flirtatious smirk, but the words lack the authenticity he’d shown more recently. He acts as though they hadn’t shared an intimate moment just hours ago. He’s being cautious, falling back on old habits to hide his nerves, but Cullen knows him well. He steps into the alcove and takes both of Dorian’s hands in his own. The mage is eyeing him cautiously and he opens his mouth to speak, but no words seem right for conveying his feelings. 

He takes a deep breath and sighs out Dorian’s name, raising his hands to brush his lips across his knuckles. He sends a silent prayer to the Maker, hoping that those three syllables, that one name, the name of the man he loves, carries all the fondness he holds for him. “Dorian,” he says again, more firmly as he guides the mage’s hands to cup his face, meeting his eyes with an intense gaze that he hopes carries the heat and desire that the man set aflame in him. Dorian’s breath hitches as Cullen steps closer into his space, hesitant, giving him a chance to push him away if he so chose. He doesn’t. Instead he loops his arms around his neck pulling him closer. “Dorian,” he practically moans, his lips brushing the other man’s, and he knows the sound of it carries all if his desperation, his passion, and his hope. 

“Cullen,” Dorian answers, and it is a yes and a please all at once. His fingers tangle in Cullen’s hair and all of that hesitation is gone. The tiptoeing around what they are and what they might be is thrown out the window as Cullen presses his body against Dorian's and Dorian against the bookshelf. Just as their lips meet and Cullen can feel his body hum with anticipation a bland voice sounds from the opening of the alcove, and he wrenched his body away from Dorian. 

“The analysis you wanted on the fade samples, Lord Pavus,” Helisma states as she passes her notes to Dorian. 

“Yes, thank you my dear,” Dorian says, voice sounding a bit strained as he accepts the paper, a hint of a blush gracing his cheeks. Cullen’s cheeks are aflame, and he coughs nervously into his fist. When the tranquil walks away Dorian turns his attention back to Cullen. “You’re feeling better I see,” he says cautiously.

“Yes,” he replies with a nervous chuckle. “I wanted to thank you, for earlier, so… thank you.”

“Is that all you wanted?”

“No,” he chuckles again, stepping in close, his voice low and private, “I think I love you, Dorian.” Dorian doesn’t respond. He just stands there, gaping at him, looking vulnerable and distraught. Cullen steps back hastily. “I’m sorry. I just thought…” Cullen trails off into an awkward silence. 

“Only think?” Dorian says after a long moment, a slow smile pulling at his lips. 

“I love you Dorian. I’ve wanted to tell you for so long, spent hours trying to think of what I would say in this situation.”

“Why haven’t you?” 

“It seemed too much to ask, at first, we’re at war, you put yourself in the line of danger every day. You seemed, unattainable, too beautiful, too charming, and too distracted. I didn’t think it was a possibility for you to return my feelings.”

“What changed?” 

“Nothing. Or maybe I did. I love you, I think about you constantly, dream of you,” he blushes as he speaks. “Of what it would be like to be with you. If you would have me.”

“Oh I would,” Dorian says, a mischievous smile teasing his lips, his eyes sparkling. They lean in for a kiss. It is slow, searching, Dorian’s hands settle on his hips. “I should go,” he murmurs against Cullen’s lips. “And you should get some rest, you look like a corpse, if I’m being honest. A handsome corpse of course, but a corpse none the less. Until next time Commander?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Dorian,” Cullen says, stealing one last small kiss. 

“I look forward to it.”

Days turn to weeks as Cullen and Dorian try to figure each other out. It’s still difficult to get private moments together, Cullen’s withdrawal leaving him irritable and reclusive, burying himself in his work, and Dorian was often out of the keep, hunting down Venatori with the Inquisitor in the Hissing Wastes. In the time they did find themselves together Cullen quickly learned of Dorian’s aversion to public affection. He didn’t press the matter, he understood the man had his reasons, but because they rarely had time alone it definitely slowed the progress of their fledgling relationship. 

They mostly go by with stolen kisses in out of the way alcoves, playing footsie under the table as they played chess in the garden, and heated glances when they were sure no one else was paying attention. Dorian had gotten him to admit to how he often pleased himself to thoughts of the mage when they were apart, stammering and blushing the whole time, and had no hesitation in telling him that he did the same, purring it into his ear, leaving him shivering with desire, only to be whisked away on another field mission before they could do anything about it.

It isn’t until about a month has passed that the Inquisitor decides to take Solas as their field mage in and excursion to the Emerald graves that they are able to plan for a night alone. When he enters his office with his lieutenants he’s surprised to find Dorian already waiting for him. The mage patiently browses his bookshelves as he rushes to conclude his meeting. 

As soon as the door clicks shut behind the last scout leaving his office he pulls off his gloves and vambraces, walking over to where Dorian leans against the wall, pulling the man close to him for a kiss, long and slow and not without heat. He feels Dorian smile against his mouth and his hands settling on his waist, pulling him closer, parting his lips allowing entrance to Cullen’s eager tongue. Cullen sighs when he pulls away to breath.

"That was, really nice," he brushes his lips gently over his lover's cheek.

"Honestly, how long have you been thinking about doing that?" Dorian said, turning his head to catch Cullen's lips again.

"Mmm, all day," Cullen murmurs, hands sliding down Dorian's back to cup his ass. "All week," he says, picking Dorian up suddenly, causing the man to gasp and wrap his arms and legs around the Commander to sturdy himself. "Ever since you burst into the war room the first time," he finishes placing the mage on his desk, settling between his thighs and leaning in to nip at his throat.

"Maker," Dorian moans, legs spreading, enticing Cullen to move closer. "And here I thought you invited me here to share a meal," his hands are tugging at Cullen's clothes, attempting to unlatch his breastplate.

"We can still have supper..." the rest of his retort is lost to a moan of Dorian's name when the other man grinds their hips together. It was in that moment that Jim walked through the door, missive in hand.

"Message for you ser- AH," he starts when he looks up to find the Commander and Dorian staring at them in shock and embarrassment. He attempts to stutter out an apology but just stammers nonsense.

"Kaffas! Leave," Dorian shouts at him just as Cullen sends him his most menacing glare and growls "Get. Out." The scout trips on their way out the door and nearly sprints across the ramparts to escape the wrath of the men he just interrupted, leaving the door wide open behind him. Cullen curses under his breath as he walks over to slam it shut.

"Is this a common thing in Ferelden? This whole utter lack of privacy? Or are we just really this ludicrously unlucky?" Dorian says as he adjusts his clothes as he slides off of Cullen's desk, irritation clear on his face. 

"Sorry," Cullen sighs, he takes Dorian's hand. The mage’s expression softens and he rests his forehead against Cullen’s again.

“Well, perhaps if someone had locks on his doors this wouldn’t be such a problem, hmm?” 

“Perhaps,” Cullen agrees with a soft chuckle. “We could move to the loft,” he suggests. Dorian looks up at the hole in the ceiling and lets out a small apprehensive sound from the back of his throat. Cullen doesn’t blame him for his hesitation, no one would see them if they walked into his office, but they would still be able to hear them. Honestly, with the hole it wouldn’t be beyond imagining that anyone on the nearby ramparts would be able to hear them anyway, he was aware that he could be a bit… vociferous in the throws of passion. That being said Dorian’s room wouldn’t prove much better, it was connected to the garden, which wouldn’t be completely empty just yet. There weren’t many rooms in Skyhold that offered total privacy. Well, except for….

“How is it that you can manage to look so mischievous, yet bashful at the same time,” Dorian says, stepping in a bit closer to Cullen, mischief of his own sparking in his eyes. “Honestly it’s delectable. What are you thinking Amatus?”

“I… may have had an idea of where we might find some privacy,” Cullen could feel his face burning even as he said it. This was a horrible idea.

It didn’t take much convincing and soon Cullen was leading Dorian back into the keep proper. The sun was only just beginning to set, so the main hall was still fairly busy. Dorian went first, it would be too conspicuous if they went together. Cullen regretted letting Dorian go first as he waited nervously by the rotunda entrance, his face felt hot and he was fairly sure he was sweating. He nearly jumped when he heard Varric’s voice beside him.

“Looking a bit queasy there Curly, you holding up ok?” There was a joking edge to his voice. Damn, he knew. Of course he did, this couldn’t be easy now could it?

“I’ll be fine,” Cullen responded, and praise Andraste he didn’t stutter. “Just a bit stuffy, it is uncommonly warm for this time of year.” That was a lie, it was an awful lie, it was freezing out and Varric knew it. The damned dwarf was smirking at him. Why didn’t he just go first? Dorian was so much better at this sort of thing. 

“Yeah, real hot out,” Varric agreed, barely keeping the chuckle out of his voice. He leans in and fakes a whisper. “Between you and me I hear the Inquisitor’s room is a great place to cool down this time of day.” This time Cullen does stammer, coughing into his fist and trying to find anything to say. He just excuses himself and tries to walk as nonchalantly across the hall as he can. He knows he’s failing when he hears Varric laughing behind him. He has half a mind to apologize to Dorian when he gets into through the door, but before he can even try he’s pressed up against the door, Dorian pressed against him, their mouths crashing together. He nearly whimpers at the loss of contact when Dorian finally peels himself away from him.

“Shall we?” The mage says as he offers his hand. They slowly make their way up the stairs to the Inquisitor’s quarters, giggling and stopping to kiss often along the way. They seem to lose more and more clothes with every step and by the time they make it to the base of the final flight of stairs that will lead them to the total privacy of the room they are both bare from the waist up. 

When they make it to the bed Dorian pushes him back onto it and crawls between his legs, pulling the laces of his breaches untied with his teeth. He crawls up his body, a trail of tongue and teeth as he makes his way from his hips to take his mouth passionately. “I’m going to have you every way I can imagine, as many times as I can before morning,” he half growls half purrs against Cullen’s ear as he rocks their hips together, and all he can do to respond is moan and nod eagerly. 

When they wake up the next day it is well past noon. Cullen aches in all the right ways and his limbs are tangled around his lover. “G’morning,” He slurs against the back of Dorian’s neck.

“Good morning,” Someone singsongs from across the room and Cullen shoots upright into a sitting position, quickly covering himself, and Dorian shouts a colorful series of curses as he buries himself under the covers. The Inquisitor and Bull are standing at the top of the stairs, wearing mismatched assortments of the clothes he and Dorian discarded in the stairwell the night before. Cullen just gapes at them, to embarrassed to process thoughts as Bull grins at him, Cullen’s chest plate hanging from one horn, Dorian’s half-sleeve sheathing the other.

“Enjoying yourselves?” The Inquisitor asks, crossing their arms under Cullen’s cloak as they glare at him and Dorian in their bed. 

“Welcome back?” Cullen finally offers nervously, and Dorian barks laughter next to him.


End file.
